


Affair

by bleak_midwinter



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 14:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17225603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleak_midwinter/pseuds/bleak_midwinter
Summary: It was never meant to end like this, but when Michael discovers she's already married he calls off what he hadn't realised had been affair.





	Affair

The wind is bitter as it nips at my ankles, the perfect metaphor for Small Heath, violently whipping my hair across my face and my coat around my legs. It’ll be worth it though, so long as I can make it through the shadowed streets in one piece.

I can picture him now as I sneak into the house, careful to remain unnoticed despite Michael telling me numerous times no one will think anything of it. Still, until I’m safely behind the door and in his arms, I know my caution is warranted. He’ll be sat by the fire, no doubt with a cigarette between his lips and he’ll smirk as I enter, pretending that my visit is merely a pleasant surprise rather than a necessity for him, that if I hadn’t turned up he’d be perfectly content to his own devices although we both know that the nights I don’t stop with him are spent turning in bed till all hours of the morning, his exhaustion finally dragging him to sleep once his mind is so foggy that it can no longer focus on the devilish images it throws at him in the dark.

It’s as much an escape for me as it is for him. When I walk through his door it’s as if the rest of the world fades away, Michael’s kisses erase any doubt that I’m not worthy of such attention, our easy conversations seem to be the only things that keep me sane and when I’m with him it’s almost as if I’m a different person. Someone free to be them true selves.

Of course it hasn’t always been so blissful; cursed by his childhood and of staring death in the face, our first few encounters seemed to be fraught with anger and manipulation, as if it were all a game to him. As if he needed to know he could be in control, direct our conversations, move things with a pace that he set and I, so starved for attention was glad of it. But as weeks turned to months, Michael had broken and shared the horrors of his time spent in limbo between families, of the awful things that had happened to him and of the more recent trauma in prison that plagued his mind. He told me of the Shelby business, of Thomas and the family, of his mother’s fragile mental state and how he was powerless to help her, and he’d let me ease his worries in the little ways I could.

The time we spent together seemed perfect, but I knew that it was doomed from the start. Eventually everything that we’d shared, all the comfort we gave to each other would have to be forgotten. I just never expected it to be now.

As I walk into the house Michael isn’t sat by the fire, he’s pacing the room, a stack of burnt out cigarette ends in the ashtray on the table and another between his lips. His face is flushed and his hair is messy as he’s ragged his fingers through it.

“You’re married?” he bellows as I step tentatively over the threshold of the room.

His words knock the wind from me, like a punch to the chest and any words I could think of to defend myself begin to choke me.

Michael nods and smirks, my painful silence answer enough. “You’re already married,” he mumbles, to himself this time.

“Michael let me explain-“

“Explain what? That I’m just something to keep you amused while your husband’s working? Something to stop you sitting in all day?”

“That’s not what this is,” I say, taking a few steps towards him as if a touch might calm him, but he flinches away.

“I know who he is. Handsome enough bloke, earns decent money, seems like a nice person, got a good head on his shoulders. So what am I then? Just some rough bit on the side to tell your friends about over fucking tea?”

I shake my head. This isn’t how I wanted my secret to come out, although thinking about it, there seems no good way for this to be revealed.

“I think you should go,” Michael says, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Get. Out,” he repeats, his harsh voice sounding alien when it leaves his mouth.

As he straightens up and garners control of his features, it’s as if the composure he’s regained has been stolen from me, and I snap. Tears spill down my cheeks as I try desperately to wrangle my frantic thoughts into an explanation.

“Michael, please listen to me. I am married and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but you have to believe me it’s not how you say it is at all, I promise you that,” I babble. Michael listens although he can’t look at me and I realise this will be the only chance I get to try and redeem myself. “He’s never in and when he is he ignores me, most of the time he can’t even bring himself to look at me, let alone sleep in the same bed as me. In fact, the majority of the time he can’t even bring himself to talk to me, it’s like I don’t even exist to him.”

Michael seems to consider it for a second, then stubs his cigarette out and turns to me. “I think you need to go.”

“Michael…”

“You are married.”

“Why does that bother you so much? You had no problem sleeping with someone who was engaged and if anything, that’s worse!”

“Because you’re married!” he says, closing the gap between so that he’s close enough that I can see the tears welling in his eyes. “This can never be anything more than a sordid little affair because you’re already someone else’s wife!”

I’d never considered that Michael would ever want more than someone who could help ease his worries with a warm bed. I’d ignored all hints that there were any feelings between us that ventured beyond a need for distraction and validation so that I could keep pretending my life was something it wasn’t, and in doing so I’d hurt Michael more than I thought possible. My selfishness has pushed him to a place I’ve never seen him before and there’s nothing I can do to pull him back. Not this time.

“I’m so sorry Michael,” I say. A pathetic attempt to offer what little comfort I can, before heading his words and walking back into the cold streets of Small Heath.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

Without Michael to strike fear into the mouths of gossipers, news of my late night rendezvous took little time to reach my husband, who had reacted precisely the way I’d expected him to. My belongings had been packed in a flurry of rage, he’d claimed that his reputation was in tatters, that the life we’d built ruined beyond repair, and that I’d brought whatever happened next on entirely myself. Were I a smarter woman I might have attempted to repair some of the damage, to reconcile and protect myself, but since leaving Michael’s home a few days prior I’d been numb. The only thing occupying my mind had been Michael’s face and his words: “This can never be anything more than a sordid little affair because you’re already someone else’s wife!” My own selfishness caused this, so the consequences were mine to deal with. 

I knew better than to expect sympathy from my family, the whispers and rumours reached them with such venom and malice that for their own preservation I can’t blame them for distancing themselves from me and as a result I ended up in a dank and dirty flat in a back alley just outside the city. The divorce flew through the courts; as soon as the words ‘adultery’ and ‘Michael Gray’ were uttered, the judge ruled in my husband's favour and I knew there was no use in trying to explain my reasons. Our marriage was over. 

“Gotta say you look a lot perkier than I expected from a woman who’s lost everything and had her reputation dragged through the mud,” my brother comments, placing a glass filled to the brim with gin in front of me.

“Well George, that’s because I haven’t left the house for a month, I’m blissfully unaware of what’s being said about me.” 

He takes a slow sip of his beer and raises his eyebrows. “It’s not good.” 

“No… I didn’t think it would be. Have you seen anything of Michael?” 

George shakes his head.

“How are mum and dad?”

“Mum sends her love and says she’ll drop another hamper off in a few days. Dad’s still appalled and disgraced that you’d ‘lower yourself to being a Peaky Blinder’s whore’. As far as he’s aware you don’t exist to him any more.” 

George says it so matter of factly, so easily that I just let his words wash over me. Eventually time will pass, I’ll land on my feet and his opinions may change. But for now, I’m cursed to struggle with the poor choices I made.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he adds. “I ain’t got a lot of spare cash but if you’re struggling-“

“I’m fine, I’m managing pretty well pawning my stuff and mum’s food parcels fill the cupboards. But thank you, it means a lot.”

“You’re my little sister, can’t have you struggling even if you are a dirty whore,” he says through a smirk.

I give him a swift kick under the table as punishment and he holds his hands up in surrender before turning back to his pint. After a few quiet seconds he looks at me, his face suddenly serious. 

“I don’t blame you you know,” he says.

“For being a recluse? I don’t have much choice George, if I leave the house I’m scared I’m going to have rotten tomatoes thrown at me by angry villagers!” 

“No, for having an affair. I know how you were being treated, but from what I can gather, being with Gray made you happy. Happier than you had been for a while. So I get it.” 

I know that he’s being sincere, nothing but the truth leaves George’s mouth, and it’s only then that I realise how much I’ve been affected by people’s treatment of me. How much the rumours and whispers, the abandonment by my father, and the total lack of contact from Michael, has really bothered me. To have one person understand why, not to condone it, or to say I made the right choice, just someone who can look past the act - at the reason behind - and take my side breaks me, and all the self-pity I’d pushed aside comes crashing over me, dragging me into a fit of tears.

“Oh shit,” George mumbles, placing his beer back on the table and pulling me into a hug. “That was meant to make you feel better not set you off!” 

“I just- it’s just-“ I start, my voice breaking with the waves of heavy sobs.

“I take it back, you silly sod. I think it’s the worst decision you’ve ever made… stop. Jesus calm down,” he orders, taking my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him as I heave through tears. “Stop this. You made a decision that made you happy at the time. It was the wrong decision but you need to own it. Not start crying in fucking pubs because   
you feel sorry for yourself! You’re stronger than that.” 

I manage to nod and stop the tears cascading down my cheeks and he pulls me back into a hug, mumbling calming words as I regain control of myself.

“Things will look up, time will pass and everyone will move on,” George concludes, mumbling the words into my hair as I straighten up with a smile.

It’s then that I see him, standing across the room. 

Michael. 

When he sees that he’s got my attention he makes a show of leaving and I can tell that he’s angry. With George’s arm still wrapped around me I can take a good guess at why and hurry to chase after him. I spot him, half way down the street and call out to him.

“Michael please! Just listen to me, this isn’t what it looks like!” 

Michael stops and I catch up to him as he whirls around, his lips pressed tightly together and his nostrils flared wide. “You know what?” he says, pointing a finger at me. “The last few weeks without you have been hell, and I thought that maybe, maybe if I could see you, now that you aren’t married anymore, we could talk about things. But I gave up waiting for you to come to me so I thought I’d follow the gossip and come to you. And where do I find you? In the arms of some bloke. You’re unbelievable, you know that?” 

“Michael, it’s not some-“

“No! I just- I’m done,” he says, turning away and starting off back down the street. 

I don’t follow him, nor do I call out that the ‘bloke’ he saw me with was my brother. Despite knowing that would solve things, my anger clouds my judgement; anger that Michael could look at me with such disgust, that he could so easily think the worst of me regardless of my efforts to deal with the fallout of our affair, and that despite claiming he wanted to talk, failed to offer me the opportunity to explain myself, so I let him walk away. 

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

A few days later a knock on my door startles me from another dreary book I’ve taken up to pass the time. It’s been a while since anyone has visited me at home and for a second I wonder whether it’s Michael.

“I know you’re in there,” a woman’s voice says. “I can see your shadow moving under the door. Open up.” 

I don’t recognise the voice so I keep my foot lodged behind the door as I open it a crack. It doesn’t help though as the woman flings the door back with such force I fear that she may have broken my foot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I shout, whirling round ready to scream at the intruder. But I think better of it when I realise it’s Polly Gray. Although we’ve never officially met, Polly is someone you recognise if you have any dealings in Small Heath. 

“What do I think I’m doing?” she echos, a devilish smile tugging at the corners of her lips upward. “That’s rich coming from you, you whore.” 

In all this time I’ve managed to avoid an outright confrontation such as this. Snide remarks whispered behind my back as I walk through the street, a general look of disdain, of course, but never someone so blatantly calling me out to my face. It seems fitting that it’s Michael’s mother who breaks that. 

“I hope you realise what you’ve done, the upset you’ve caused Michael,” she adds, calmly and slowly. Much the same way Michael speaks when he’s trying to intimidate someone. 

“The way he spoke to me the other night gave me some indication, yes.” 

“I could have told him straight away, I’d have known as soon as I laid eyes on you,” she continues without even registering my reply. “Nothing good comes from lying and deceiving people, but I suppose this-“ she waves around the dilapidated flat, “is comeuppance enough.”

I ignore the blatant hypocrisy in her statement. “I know. I should have told Michael I was married from the start.”

“But what gets me is that even after all the trouble you made for yourself, you’re straight into the arms of another bloke-“

I splutter out a laugh at her assumption. The same one Michael jumped to the other night. They even have the same look of crippling disappointment on their face. 

“I appreciate that Michael is your son and it must be difficult to see him upset, knowing that I’m the reason for it, but I’m not in a relationship with the man Michael saw me with, which he’d have known had he given me even a second to explain myself. I-“

“So he can listen to your lies some more? Not a chance.” 

“I’m not lying! I’ve never lied to Michael!” Her eyebrows flick higher and I’m sure she’s calculating a scathing remark to put her back on her high horse, but I don’t give her chance to voice it. “I may not have expressly told him every detail about my life, but believe me when I say that to begin with, Michael wouldn’t have given a shit that I was married.”  
“You’re no good. I wish I’d have known about you from the start then I could have fixed this before he got hurt. I think it would be in your best interest to leave the city.”   
I know this trick: not an outright threat but the promise of harm hangs heavy over her words. Nevertheless, Polly Gray and the Peaky Blinders don’t scare me. Perhaps they should, perhaps Polly may even have a point, a fresh start could fix everything. But I’m too stubborn and I know too much about the Shelby business for it to be clever for them to threaten or harm me. 

“I’ve lived here my entire life. My family have lived in Birmingham for generations, which is more than you can say. I’m not going anywhere. I made a choice and it was the wrong one, now I have deal with that. Because that’s what you have to do in life, you have to deal with the consequences of your actions. Although, I’m sure it’s safe to say Michael’s not facing as much backlash as this is he?” 

“Michael’s not the one who’s been having an affair and then-“

“I’ve said I’m sorry! I know that not telling Michael was the wrong thing to do, it was deceitful and it hurt him and if I knew the way I’d end up feeling about him, and the way he felt about me, I would have told him straight away!” 

“Well that’s lovely, but actions speak louder than words and your actions are less than savoury,” Polly snaps back.

“The bloke Michael saw me with isn’t someone I’m stepping out with-“

“If it’s money you need to leave just tell me how much,” Polly interrupts.

“I don’t need money, because I’m not leaving, because I’ve. Done. Nothing. Wrong.” 

Polly chuckles. “Perhaps you should try speaking-“

“You’re not listening to me! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said?”

“I have-“

“No! You stop talking now! You barged your way into my home, throwing abuse and accusations at me without giving me even the slightest chance to explain myself! Gray, Shelby, whatever you are be damned, you will listen to me.” I take a step towards her, emboldened by weeks of near solitude and exile. “I made a mistake that I’m paying for. I’ve apologised as much as Michael will allow me to, and if I could go back and do it all again, I certainly wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. But Michael is far from innocent and, most importantly, THE MAN MICHAEL SAW ME WITH WAS MY BROTHER!” 

As my angry words register with her, a wave of emotions flit across her face; confusion, realisation, embarrassment, until she regained control of her features and sets her mouth back in a straight line. 

“You want his address? Here, I’ll write it down for you,” I add, smug that I finally have the upper hand as I scrawl his street and house number onto a scrap piece of paper. “Maybe you can send some of your goons round, give him a good questioning. Or, perhaps I could give you my mum's address and she can-“

“That’s enough,” Polly says, snatching the piece of paper from me. 

“Then get out,” I order, exhausted with the flurry of emotions Polly’s presence has elicited.

She listens, however, and barges past me towards the door, pocketing the scrap of paper as she goes. In the quiet she leaves, my emotions overtake me and I collapse into bed.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

I hear nothing more from Polly, nor anyone else for the next few days, so when a tentative knock sounds on my door I practically hurl myself across the room to answer it. 

“Hello.” 

“Michael,” I reply, barely believing the sight before my eyes. 

“Can I come in?” he asks after a few seconds of heavy silence and I step aside. He glances around the meagre flat, his hat balled in his fists, until I gesture to the sofa and he takes a seat on the edge of the cushion. “I owe you an apology,” he says, pausing as he awaits a response.  
I stay silent and standing, watching as his gaze flits everywhere but me.

“The way I handled things wasn’t… I should have… there were much better ways I could have reacted,” he settles on finally. “You’ve had a lot to deal with, some of which I could have stopped and none of which you deserved, so I’m sorry that I let that happen. Since I spoke to my mum I’ve been trying to smooth some things over so you can go back to your normal life.” There’s a strain to his voice that I can’t place. Somewhere between anger and upset. Every word he speaks seems to weigh on him until he can’t even lift his eyes from the floor.

“I appreciate you coming here to apologise, and for trying to help me out. But it’s my own burden to bear, I should have been honest with you from the start. In fact I should never have even been with you, I was married, I shouldn’t have been so selfish. I should have been a better-” 

“Don’t say that,” Michael interrupts. “Don’t even finish that sentence.” He runs a hand through his hair and shoots up from his seat like he’s about to take my hands before he catches himself and stops. “Look, I’ve been asking around, talking to some people and they’ve told me about your life, stuff that I didn’t know, that I didn’t even consider when I kicked you out. After everything you did for me, you deserved better than the way I acted and you deserved better than the way he treated you. I’m sorry.” The rehearsed words tumble from his mouth, hurried as if he’s worried they’ll escape him if he doesn’t get them out.

“Michael-“

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry for hurting you…” He finally looks at me, his eyes glossy, and takes one of my hands in his, rubbing soft circles across it with his thumb.“Just give me a bit of time, a chance to make everything right, because I will. I promise I will.” 

“You don’t have to do that Michael.” 

“I do, because I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t…” He pauses and his gaze drops to where our fingers have laced together instinctively despite so long apart, before he looks at me again, no trace of the withheld tears that cling to his eyes before. “I know I haven’t shown you, but believe me when I say this… I love you.”


End file.
